Edward Crabtree

ROARING TRADE: PILOT LIVE AT GLAV CLUB, MOSCOW NOVEMBER 9TH.

Is this much-loved band the saviour of the Russian rock genre?

This November Saturday night proved to be as grey as the preceding October and I hoped that this band, new to me, could buoy me up – in particular as those last two live gigs had left me unmoved.
They did.

Pilot [short /i/and beat on the second syllable] were recommended to me during a rare chance encounter with a self-confessed Russian rock fan who was also a Russian himself. This seemed a good enough omen in itself.

The Pied Piper’s of St Pete’s.
The second good omen came when I tried to get my ticket. For various reasons I buy my tickets in person over the counter. My trusty usual kiosk told me that all the tickets had already been pocketed. I got lucky at another place however.
Then at the Glav Green Club itself I encountered a queue on my way in and, along this, wideboys were pushing last-minute offers for anyone who had turned up on the off-chance.

The gig going community – and this night it did feel like a community – became so populous that we had to wait our turns to get in and out of the venue.

In the lobby meanwhile, the band’s merchandise – the lemon yellow wooly hats and scarves -were getting swallowed up faster than the stall holders could unbox new batches of them.
After twenty-two years of strumming and pounding, Pilot have the capacity to really pull the crowds.

Alt rock institution.

Conceived and organised in the rainy second capital of St Petersburg by Ilya `Chort`Knabengof in 1997, the band, first under the moniker Military Jane, have honed their own local strain of hard indie rock. This incorporates folkish and punkish influences but within an industrial sensibility.
What’s more, their Russian nationality seems to be encoded into these sonic emanations. Throughout their existence they have been transmorgifying into a unique brand, complete with a recognisable cartoon logo, numerous fan sites, endless photo shoots and so on.
In this tour they were revisiting an album called `Fish, Mole and Pig` which was first produced 15 years back.

Anthems for the 21st Century.
The doors of the concert venue were unlocked at 7 pm and the four piece materialised about an hour and a half later. There was no warm up act.
Following a shamanic sounding introductory soundtrack, the drummer, Nikita Belozyorov, arrived shirtless. The bass guitarist, Sergei Vyrvrich, a relaxed tall man with a floppy blonde fringe, came on next. Then Ilya himself appeared – wearing shades, which he never removed. The keyboardist was invisible (supplied by digital means, I presume).

They compensated for their nondescript appearance with much use of back projections to underscore the songs themes. Not that it was easy to see that much anyway, through the vineyard of raised phones, scarfs and girlfriends sat on shoulders.

Their opener was a declaration of intent just called `Rock`. Many in the audience seemed to have anticipated this as they held up pictures of the horned fist salute with the words `Rock` written beneath.
The next number spoke of their civic pride for their home city as the backdrop showcased it all with shots of the spires and waterways of that city. There were songs about the sex industry, the Hindu religion, psychopaths (`Nye Chelovek`) and one titled `Terrorism`.

Pilot, without offering leadership, could not be called escapist and do seem willing to confront the questions of the day.
That said, some of their compositions showed unashamed sentimentality. One involved a visual tour through old family albums and another, celebrating the band’s longevity, showcased children’s drawings from yesteryear as balloons dropped down from the ceiling.

Quite singular.
Like t.A.T.u, Pilot prove a more impressive experience live than in recorded format. Belozyorov’s tom -toms, put high in the mix, are a great boon in the upbeat ambience they create. In fact, Pilot dish out quite a detailed sound with keyboard melodies and guitar digressions aplenty.

I find it difficult to twin this outfit with any that I know in the West. Pilot owe a clear debt to the grunge of the Nineties. Otherwise they might be understood as a more slick version of their compatriots Posledni Tanki V Paris.

If `Russian rock` constitutes a genre in its own right, and many contend that it does, then Pilot might be said to be one of its last remaining popular exponents.
Sure, there are bands like Louna and IC3Peak, but the former seem to belong to an international nu metal trend and the latter to an international dark wave hip-hop tendency. Pilot are Russian-Russian.

My kind of crowd.
The feeling in the air of this enjoyable gig had a lot to do with the punters. In their thirties and forties and not dressed to impress, they exuded cheery bonhomie. For example, they offered to hold my beer for me as I tried to take pictures. I saw no fights break out.

We all downed quite a few Tuborg’s together with a lot of help from the – let me say – angelic bar staff. I got a real sense of this being an audience who were not just here to see the band, but here to say: Here we all are! Just look at us all!

`Osyen` by Pilot.

Main image:Flavara.com

TEXT AND BE DAMNED: The Russian film TEKCT.

Anger is not something we expect from Russian cinema – but it is here at last.

TEKCT enjoyed a Decent run in the Moscow film theatre but I could only get to see it a week after its 24th October release at the Rodin theatre in Semyenovskaya.

With its train station-lie dowdiness and the Hammer and Sickle still there above the cash desk, and the harried staff, this place proved to be a fitting venue to catch this social realist fable. In fact I just nabbed the last available place in the twenty seat capacity projection room which had been set aside for the film.

TEKCT constitutes a drama thriller some two hours in length and with an 18+ certificate (hence featuring a lot of irritating bleeps over the bad language). Set very much in the Moscow of today, this picture represents an adaptation, by the author himself, of the novel By Dmitry Glukhovsky (of the Metro franchise) – which has yet to be translated into English.

General Partnership were the distributors, and the man in the high chair was one Kilma Shipenko who was behind the docudrama Salyut 7 (2017).
The soundtrack, which alternated between electronica and sombre classical owes to the prolific forty something composer Dmitry Noskov whose previous credits include the soundtrack to Attraction (2017).

Star vehicle.
Russia’s man-of-the-moment, the Yaroslavl born thirty-year old Alexander Petrov fills the shoes of the iconic role of the film’s anti-hero. (He seems to be cornering the market in troubled youths: whetther it is his role as the hotheaded insurgent in Attraction or his depiction of one Nikolai Gogol in the Gogol franchise (2017 -2018) ).
His co-stars include 29-year-old Ivan Yankovski, who cropped up in Queen of Spades: Dark Rite (2016) – as the Golden Boy hate figure – and the 27-year-old Kristina Asmus who has been setting pulses racing in the television medical comedy Intern since 2010.

The new Brat?
TEKCT was competing in the Russian box offices with Joker. It would be egregious of me to draw too many parallels between these two distinct products. I do, however, feel that they partake of the same zetgeist. Both highlight the plight of – and potential danger of – troubled young men on the margins of society.
Another comparison already being made is with the much vaunted earlier Russian movie Brat (Aleksei Balabanov, 1997).
An article by Anastasia Rogova in the (hard copy) newspaper Vechernaya Moskva (24th – 31st October issue) finds TEKCT wanting in relation to the other legendary film. However, the mere fact that the films have been bracketed together at all implies to me that TEKCT is a film that Russians will be discussing still for some time to come.

A Hero of Our Times?
Ilya Gorunov (Petrov), a graphic design student, attempts to blag some money off his mother so that he can hit the town with his girlfriend.When she refuses he takes the money anyway…
Next we see him a standard young man about town with his girlfriend in tow and in a trendy nightclub. His fun is interrupted when the politisia carry out a drugs raid the premises and seem to take interest in his woman. He protests, and then, in a scene which calls to mind Midnight Express, is himself arrested after a stash of cannabis seems to be found on his person. (We know the cops have planted this on him).
Seven years later, after having been imprisoned for drug trafficking, the hapless youth is released from his provincial jail and back into the real world.
Returning to Moscow, now a shambling figure in a parka and ill-fitting trousers, Ilya finds that his mother has passed away and that his friends have moved on.
He then tracks down his persecutor – Pyotr (Yankovski). In a fit of rancour he slaughters him by accident. He hides the corpse down a manhole and takes off with the victims cellphone….

Window on the other half.

Ivan Yankovski as the Golden Boy.
[newsmyseldon.com}

Here the Metro author’s gift for simple but ingenious plot ideas comes into play.
Ilya begins to experiment with the shady lawman’s phone. He begins to watch the many videos the man had downloaded showing his life of conspicuous consumption. He indulges in envious voyeurism at the lifestyle that he has been deprived of. He even pleasures himself over proxy sex with the man’s girlfriend (Asmus).
He becomes ever more embroiled in the man’s stolen identity living a sort of substitute existence. He answers text messages – explaining his absence by saying that he is in Columbia – and connects with the girlfriend.
This film shares the same concern with the loss of identity that social media can encourage in the much more stylish film Selfie (Khomeriki 2018).
Another resonance is with the Garros Evdomikov novel (as I reviewed earlier) Headcrusher (2003). This also evokes a lawman who wins female trophies and an oustider who gets to tangle with the games of the Big Boys. Ilya may be somewhat pathetic but the kind of modern Russian freeloaders that he is up against are far, far worse than he is.

Howl.
The film closes on a defiant note with a denouement that has shades of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) about it.
This could not be called a lovable film and I would not hurry to see it again just yet; however it is unflinching in its honesty and of importance in its themes – all qualities which Russian cinema too often lacks.
Petrov has turned in a fine, vigorous and physical performance in a film in which the camera is almost always on him.
Some gratitude is also due to Glukhovsky who, in his fortieth year, has Hollywood knocking on his door but has still retained his oppositional spunk.

Trailer to TEKCT (Russian).

Main image: bel.kp.ru

Lullabies for Adults: MEGAPOLIS live at the Mumy Troll music bar in Moscow, October 26th.

Respected vintage soft rockers were just a little too tranquil for my satisfaction.

Whenever I set foot in the spick and span basement lounge that is Mumy Troll Music Bar, the question of just what I am doing there comes up.

In the male toilets there you come across the legend, painted on the wall -`Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll`. This has always struck me as ironic as, of all the venues I know in Moscow, this must be the least `rock and roll` of all of them, before we even mention the other two options on that list!

I was once asked by a polite doorman there to remove my leather jacket before entering. This was no bikers jacket, just an ordinary black leather affair. As it contained my money,I had to spend the evening with it slung over my arm.

This select establishment exists for the cocktail sipping and sea food chomping promising-career-and-smug-married set who like to be cosseted by upmarket pop tones.

So what am I doing here? Well,they do put on some significant acts. Julia Volkova, who I saw there some years ago laid one of the most enjoyable live events I have yet attended and Gorod 312, Russia’s finest pop act are due to play there soon.

Mock Halloween.

The dying embers of October had become lukewarm and moist and there was much sniffling all round and general listlessness among the punters.

The bar was pushing a Halloween pitch based around a tacky but pleasurable medical theme. The bar women were demonic nurses and the bar men had slashes and stitches across their faces. Above the bar blood transfusion bags hung and a skeleton sat in the corner on a wheelchair.

The honey trap gals touting American Whiskey were also out in force. All peroxide hair and suspenders, with shot glasses on the ready hanging on their belts, they made a beeline for me, knowing a lonely guy when they saw one. But I was waiting for Megapolis.

The clientelle, who seemed a notch more salubrious than usual this evening, seemed nonchalant with little evidence of excitement, however.

Success Story.

Megapolis have been in business for 33 years, headed by Oleg Nesterov, and with 10 albums to their credit they are a Soviet born rock band who have been granted a `charmed life` according to All Music. Com. Thus they appeared in a key film of the 1990s – (Nash Chelovek V Samreno with Tatyana Skerodhadova ) and sang a song for Boris Yeltsin. Some of their pieces have become a part of Russian folk culture such as the KarlMarxSchdat – with its gentle mockery of a communist utopia.

The band also enjoy a unique German following and visit that country often and translate some of their songs into the German tongue.

A recent pet project of Nesterov’s -and one which this gig was showcasing – constitutes The Life of Planets. This double album attempts to provide soundtracks to those Soviet films that never got screened or completed when The Thaw came to an abrupt end. This bright scheme is even receiving some coverage in the West.

Scenes From Provincial Life.

The four piece strolled onto the stage at about half nine. Nesterov sported an acoustic guitar and – sorry if I’ve got this wrong – I think the lead guitarist was Dmitri Chervyakov and the bassist was Mikhail Gabolayev. Dressed in dark clothing and players more than performers they lacked any visual impact.

Nesterov, however, does radiate benevolence like some sort of lean, tanned and well-preserved amiable wizard.

They also had a back projections and these depicted shots of Sixties era town life in Russia – forest picnics and such like.

Guitar orchestra.

The well-rehearsed accompanying music was folk-soft rock complete with that husky and comatose vocal delivery style which is the hallmark of Russian songs of this genre.

Still, some real power emerged from this small string and drum outfit, particularly in the crescendos. Chervyakov (if it was he) had a good line in ethereal slide guitar and I found myself paying attention to the actual music rather than just abandoning my body to the rhythmic flow as is my usual wont.

At one point Nesterov took to conducting as though for an orchetra – as if to underscore the unique selling point of this band, which is its musical virtuosity. Megapolis are Serious About Pop and devoted craftsmen within the genre. In this regard they remind me a tad of the British band XTC.

In fact the very name Megapolis, with its futuristic high-rise overtones, seems like a strange mismatch. Megapolis may be modern and urbane – but they are not moderne and not urban!

Despite all of Nesterov’s intimate chats between songs the audience response remained lukewarm, or perhaps they were just chilling. For myself, I was finding the mellowness of it all a bit cloying and the implied nostalgia for Soviet times a bit suspect. Gimme some sex, drugs and rock and roll!

I have no idea if the rest of the audience agreed. They were giving nothing away.

JUST DESSERTS: the film PAIN THRESHOLD (BOLEVOI POROG).

New actors get a chance to shine in this formulaic survival thriller.

The usual cinemas that I had expected to screen this sensational new Russian release did not do so so I ended up heading over to the Kosmos Kinoteatr on Prospekt Mira just two days after its premier. Even here though the showing had been relegated to a small upstairs venue – the sort that boasts bean bags for seats. An Art House flick sort of venue.

This was no Art House movie however, as the ten so or so punters and me who had turned up that night were about to discover…

New Blood.

Bolevoi Porog constitutes the latest addition to the crime/adventure thriller subgenre of which the impressive Otryv (reviewed earlier) also belongs.

Andrei Simonov has made his debut with this 100 minute long 16+ drama – by Look film in association with R. Media and distributed by SB Film -as both the scribbler of the script and the man holding the megaphone.

The acting talent that he has called on,whilst not quite household names, offer a synergy of old hands and rising stars. For instance, Arina Postkinova (Full Transformation, 2013) has already quite a prolific screen presence despite being just past her mid-twenties, whereas the 50-year-old Villen Babichek, a character actor who plays a villain, will be known to many for his role in Viking (2016).

Trial by fire.

`Everyone has their own pain threshold`runs the tagline for this movie (albeit which does not appear on the promotional poster). The story concerns the fate of three young Russians who are learn this fact.

The central players are two couples, rich daddy and mummies’ boys and girls one and all, including Lena (Postkinova), Tanya (Natalia Skomorokhova), Kirill (Roman Kurstyn) and Sergey (Kirill Komarov). They are just the sort of vacant and narcissistic tearaways destined, in such cautionary tales, to open the jack-in-a-box of fate….

We discover them enjoying an insouciant car chase with the politsia before their vehicle swerves and slams into a nightclub. The unimpressed manager, perhaps sensing them to be untouchable, advises them to clear well out of the city.

Next we find them, as carefree as ever, driving a van through the remote splendour of Gorny Altai (bordering Kazakhstan). They are ready for a spot of camping and Hiking. And white water rafting.

As their designated guide (Eugene Mundum) turns out to be a creepy old drunk, they make their own way to the water’s edge, waiving aside warnings about the hazards that lie ahead.

In one of the most effective and enlivening sequences in the film, they find the rapids to be more ferocious than they had counted on and they become separated and lose their dinghy.

Thus far we have a `nightmare holiday` anecdote. It is then, however, that they meet some other Russians…

This group of men present themselves as matey fellow travellers but in fact that they are escaped convicts. And they seem in no mood to be trifled with. Along with Babichek they include Evgeny Atarik (Dark World, 2010), Grigory Chaban (Vasha Neba, 2019), Oleg Fomin and Alexander Golubkov.

When one of the youths knocks out one of this party, in a bid to escape their effective enslavement, a chase between gilded youth and desperadoes ensues which becomes a no holds barred fight for survival.

Here is a film to make you grateful for the regimentation and anonymity of city life.

Lost resonances.

This is a sure-footed first film and one which showcases some emerging talent but it tells an oft told tale. It is the one about innocents discovering their inner strengths and inner demons in extremis. This, and the overall premise, makes Bolevoi Porog similar to the breakthrough movie Deliverance (1972) which has spawned many such imitators.

There exists one poignant scene where two of the youths, fleeing for their lives, descend a mountainside on which a village of Mongolic people are settled. The immediate response of the former is one of distrust and fear at the very appearance of these obvious metropolitans.

This uneasiness between the moneyed Russians and other ethnicities could have made for an interesting subtheme but is not really explored much further.

I find it difficult, in fact, to mine many wider themes from this film. Otryv seemed to suggest that Russia’s youth are being stymied by uncaring and incompetent elders. That would apply here too – except for the fact that, in this, the Young are architects of their own fates and there is a karmic sense to that which unfolds.

Sense of wilderness.

There have been recent television drama serials which have trodden similar waters. For instance Flint, broadcast by N.T.V – in effect a Russian reworking of Rambo: First Blood – also depicted a man reduced to an almost primitive state in fighting against greater odds.

The setting saves this film from banality, however. The cinematographer Andrei Losivof brings out the sun drenched Arcadia which provides the backdrop well and this is then enhanced by the incidental music of Dmitry Elemyanov – who this year also provided the score for Poteryanni Ostrov (Lost Island), which also features a stark landscape. The epic magnitude of his music shifts the film into horror territory.

The cast exhibit such vigorous performances that there is no need to show much gore, even when awful acts are committed. Then, for such a predictable scenario, the ending surprised me a little – and there was even some much-needed light relief in the final reel. Nevertheless, Otryv, with its fiendish and fresh premise remains the more memorable movie from this genre.

Trailer for BOLEVOI POROG (Russian language).

Featured image: courtesy- timeout.ru.

WHAT’S ALL THIS THEN!? AUKTYON LIVE AT THE GLAV CLUB, MOSCOW ON OCTOBER 6TH.

Perhaps I should have split the scene when I spied the tuba on-stage….

If I had to name the most lugubrious song that I can think of then it would have to be The House of the Rising Son by The Animals which they released in Britain in the sixties.

This soul-sapping song was the one being played by a warm up DJ as I made my way into the Glav Club in south Moscow to find out about AUKTYON.

As I shuffled through the security checkpoint, having had to divest myself of all my valuables and then graduated to the garderobe area were the process was repeated, I was, for some reason, reminded of a time I had gone to visit an inmate at Strangeways prison many years ago. Perhaps it was just that baleful ballad, with its sense of entrapment, that had put me in this frame of mind. Yet it was fitting.

Tuba.

The DJ responsible for this soundtrack, however, was something of a discrepancy. As the 800 or so audience of hipsters of all, ages piled into the auditorium he span a string of sixties Western classics – all of which were in contrast to what was to ensue.

After treating us to The Doors he exited to polite applause and then we had a chance to look at the stage. The backdrop was an old-fashioned curtain rather than the now mandatory projection. Nor was there any evidence of dry ice to get us ready. Then I spied a tuba on the stage among other brass instruments. A tuba! Hmmm…

The Munsters.

I counted about nine members of AUKTYON including three brass horn worriers, a willowy keyboardist, the bassist, the lead guitarist and the man leading the parade…who, well we’ll come to that.

None of these personnel were screen idol material – unless you include the likes of Lon Chaney in that definition.

Leonid Fyodorov, a shapeless and bespectacled man, could have been a software developer as he crouched over his guitar facing sideways to the audience.

Oleg Garkusha, a thick-set hunchback in a spangled jacket and white gloves,put me in mind of Barry Humphries’s alter ego Les Patterson. He functioned as the frontman and I kept expecting him to burst into song. Instead he tottered about the stage shaking some kind of tubular rattle like a man in the grip of delirium tremens. Once in a while bark something into the microphone or declaim something between sets.

It seems that Garkusha constitutes one of those band members who, like Andrew Ridgeley from Wham, just `provide a presence`. But at least Ridgeley was beach-body ready….

Their own creation.

AUKTYON began in 1978 after being initiated by two college kids in St Petersburg – Fyodorov and Garkusha. They soon became a fixture of the influential Leningrad Rock club with their brand of art rock.

After all these years they can still draw an audience even though their sound has mutated from theatrical post-punk to central Asian tinged big band quasi-Jazz compositions, albeit retaining the thread of theatricality.

Mindless boogie.

Tonight they churned out a series of horn-heavy rhythmical numbers, most of which were quite long and many of which displayed false endings. At best they resembled some of the early excursions of Talking Heads and at other times I was reminded of the ska-punk of Distemper who I had seen live in Kazan a few years back. Their song `Doroga`, which I recognised, is an obvious classic but many others seemed indistinguishable from each other.

The Fyodorov’s crooning, whilst it may have been the blues voice of the perestroika era, only succeeded in reminding me that I would soon be on the screeching metro going home alone to an empty flat and with nothing but duties facing me the next wet day….

Mixed reception.

After each piece Garkusha did one of those circus performer bows where you cross and uncross your hands in front of your chest while bowing three times. The applause came, but the audience seemed to have divided into three camps. The true believers were the ones engaging in some energetic jiving. Then some looked just bored and the third camp was more tolerant and expectant yet a bit lost.

I do appreciate that AUKTYON have their very own late Soviet/post-Soviet jazz-ska-folk-dance-soundtrack which is by no means a copycat of anything Western that I can think of.

However, I was in the latter two camps. Call me superficial but I could have liked them more had they not been so unprepossessing in appearance; nor, as much as I embrace a lot of `dark` music, could I relate to their doleful tone.

Perhaps I just needed to knock back more of the 350 roubles a throw Tuborg’s, or become more of a jazzer….

They continued to honk and jitter about as I took my leave at quarter to eleven. On the way out I noticed that pamphlets by Colonel Gaddafi were being sold alongside tha band’s merchandise and then I became enveloped in the sleet of the October night….

Auktyon: `Moya Lyubov` (Live in St Petersburg, 2011

DESIGN FOR LOUNGING.

FOR SOME THE KRUZHKA BARS ARE SPORTS BARS – OTHERS ARE JUST HERE FOR THE BEER.

Below street level we find a septic alcove with orange walls and chunky polished dark wood tables lit by a creamy lamp glow. A posse of twenty-somethings lounges on leather armchairs as if set for the night.Between them lies a four litre beer dispenser from which they pump autumn leaf coloured ales into heavy glass tumblers….
Welcome to a standard Kruzhka bar.
Kruzhka – meaning `mug` or`tumbler` -represents Moscow’s premier sports bar and beer restaurant chain. Its affordable wares and relaxed ethos ensure that it remains a stopping off port for many a student and expat.

Part of the cityscape.
The first of these opened its doors in March seventeen years back in the Profsouyuznaya area in the south-east of the city. Since then – from Proletarskaya to Prospekt Vernaskovo, Taganskaya to Chertonovskaya – Krushka emporiums with their signature illuminated orange-knife-and fork-with-beer tankard-between have been sprouting up near metro stations throughout the metropolis. They come and go. For example, a pleasant one in a wooded part of Voikovskaya has just vanished as has a long-standing one on Gazetny Pereleuok but there are always new ones to replace them.

A Moscow initiative,the network has been bleeding into locations as distant as Khanti-Mansisk and Tumen (both in West Siberia) and there can even be found on in Minsk, the Belorussian capital.
The product.
The owners of the Kruzhka empire maintain a low public profile. Enter a Kruzhka bar and you will be served by young men from Tajikistan or Azerbaijan who, whilst not quite the all smiles and help of a jolly inkeeper, seem attentive and hard-working enough.
Despite some pretension to being a craft beer specialist, the main beverages on offer are Zhiguli and their own house beers, all going for an average of 190 roubles for 0.5 litres. Their plain Krushka beer is pleasant but real hangover material.
Not so the Kruzhka Pshenichnoye – their Wheat beer-which is a velvety quaffable delight and counts as one of my favourite beers.

As a Brit, the process of drinking and eating are worlds apart, so I have little personal knowledge of their food. Between midday and 5 pm (or later, if they are in the mood) a scorched burger can be yours as can pork and chicken sausages, borsch with smetana and pelmeni in broth: standard Russian fare for which you can expect to pay no more than 300 roubles.
In refreshing contrast to all the craft beer joints with their Deep Purple and Green Day standards, the soundtrack to Kruzhka bars are youthful and townie friendly Russian lounge hip-hop.
On every wall is fixed a TV screen which, when not nagging you about some dismal soccer match, is either switched on to Bridge T.V. giving us up-to-the-minute European pop or showing promotional slides of people Having a Good Time in Krushka bars.
It is no surprise to discover their brand template -the menus, the colour scheme, the funky orange rugby shirts that the staff wear, the butch furniture and glasses – is to be found among all their bars .But there is still room for variety.
The Chistye Prudy Kruzhka resembles a sanitised German bierkeller whereas the one in Prospekt Mira a chilled living room, with a hookah lounge next door. In terms of buildings, the Partisanskaya Krushka, on Izmailovskaya Shosse, resembles a Japanese temple plonked without ceremony right in front of the Alfia hotel.

Sports intrusion.
That Kruzhka is a sports bar is something that I like to forget. Many an evening there has been besmirched by the goggleboxes showing green pitches with screaming commentary and by non-regular punters jumping up and down bawling `Davai! Davai!`
If, as the old saying has it, `Golf is a good walk ruined` – then… football is sure as hell a good drink ruined!
But,when without the sound and fury of penalty shoot outs, a Kruzhka bar can feel like an unpretentious haven. The interiors are well-maintained and never either too chilly or sweltering. You can get mellow there with no questions asked.
As my companion for many years, the places have their own snapshots of memories.
That time a friend of mine wanted to order a non-bloody beef burger. We spent some time looking up the Russian phrase that would get this idea across and said it to a waiter who, lo and behold, returned…with a chicken burger!
That chubby lawyer who accosted me once as he downed expensive champagne in his two piece suit, to drown that bad time a woman at work had given him…
The group of old dears who came in for an impromptu vodka party and, without asking, had the rap music switched to Soviet period ballads in their honour….
That false summer last June when a hired band was playing on the patio in front of the Prospekt Mira Kruzhka. They were cranking out a decent version of `Sunshine Reggae` and a random beaming young woman from the audience joined in on the tambourine….
The Kruzhkka bars, amenable to all and somehow very Russian, form a vital part of post-Soviet Moscow daily life.

Featured image: reutov.biglion.ru

Krushka site: www.kruzhka.ru

ABIGAIL AND THE IRON-MASKED OVERLORDS.

ABIGAIL: It’s a fairytale. No, wait. It’s steampunk…It’s a steampunk fairytale.

This August a blockbuster fantasy film, the creation of talent both inside and outside of Russia, came to town and gave birth to a new franchise. I hot-footed it to Cinemastar in Yugo Zapadnaya to be present at the birth. Such fantasy is a genre that I am not all that drawn to, but I could not miss out on such a major production.
This was released on August 22nd by Twentieth Century Fox C.I.S, but the progenitors are Kinodanz. After seven years in business this production company has already established itself as one able to call on big names. One Antonio Banderas appeared in their Beyond Reality (2016). In Abigail, likewise, the 51-year-old British actor Eddie Marson (Sherlock Holmes, 2009) plays a key part.

Beleaguered city.
Abigail constitutes a family oriented 6+ certificate science fantasy adventure served up with a steampunk aesthetic.
The film whisks us off to a world long ago and far away: Fensington. In this stylish and retro dominion, iron masked servants of a despotic state patrol the cobbled streets checking the identities of its citizens by scanning their eyes. These citizens have long been told that a terrible disease encircles the city and hence they need must remain isolated. The Special Department is charged with deporting those it deems as carriers of this disease.
This same world, however, is one in which magical powers can be called upon and where sprites flutter through the air outside the city. (The opening shots of the film introduce these, in a scene that reminded me of a certain Spice Girls video, gamboling through the forest glades).

Abigail’s quest.

Abigail Foster: a new heroine for the post-global age?
[kg-portal.ru]

The eponymous heroine, Abigail, (Tinatin Dalakishvilli) has lost her wise and vivacious father to the clutches of the Special Department. Her quest becomes one to find him and to discover who is behind the iron masks of the Special Department and what lies beyond the gates of Fensington.
This quest will cause her to doubt the official story and will introduce her to an alternate community of like-minded dissidents. This extraordinary league of gentlemen and lady magicians encourage Abigail to develope her own latent magical powers. Together they will all fly beyond the city boundaries aboard a magnificent airship….

International talents.
The brains behind this are not new to fantasy. The director and co-writer Aleksandr Boguslavsky has a background in Russian science fiction TV thrillers and his co-writer Dmitry Zhigalov has worked on the forthcoming science fiction film Project Gemini.
The 28-year-old Georgian model Dalakishivilli who first made her name five years back in an intriguing Georgian black comedy fantasy called Seazone, gets to play Abigail. She brings elegance and innocence to the role. Her father, seen in a series of flashbacks, is Marsan. Another luminary comes in the form of 30-year-old Tajik star Rinal Mukhamentov, who I recall as a pacific starman in Attraction (2016). Here he has a mute role.
Many of the outdoor shots were filmed on location in the old town part of Tallin, Estonia’s picture postcard capital.

Enchantment.

Visual sumptuousness forms a large part of the charm of Abigail. The location scenes of a spire-crossed winterscape and the cosy brownish interiors, the Edwardian-cum-twenties technology, the glittering CGI effects and the glamorous cast, all are designed to enchant.
The ambience is notched up by a quasi-classical soundtrack courtesy of the Muscovite Ryan Otter who composed for the Gogol triptych (2017, 2018). Here he employs much in the way of bass horns to convey both menace and majesty.

Subtext.
The underlying message seems to be that age-old one about how you have to ignore the crusty old powers-that-be and find your individual inner strength and so on. Nothing new here then.
The positive depiction of a father -daughter relationship is refreshing however. Marsan’s father oozes twinkly parental love. (In fact, I now realise that he must have been saying his lines in English and that these were then dubbed into Russian. This was not apparent when I watched the film!)
Otherwise this could be taken to be a veiled allegory about the current political situation in Russia where peaceful protestors can be hauled away by masked policemen and the population is forever being warned of contamination by outside sources.

Dystopia in fairyland.
The film feels like a mechanism constructed out of previous films: a bit of Harry Potter here, a bit of Equilibrium there and then a bit of The Golden Compass. However, its organising principle is its steampunk ethos which it wears heavily on its sleeve. We see plenty of mechanical contraptions and the airships have been lifted straight from the novels of Michael Moorcock. This plausible alternate world scenario is then stretched further by us being asked to believe in sprites and conjuring, which may challenge older viewers as much as it thrills younger ones.
On the one hand the shimmering magic rays and so on , realised by CGI effects, grate a bit being such a hackneyed trope but on the other, some of the fighting scenes seem a little too strong for a younger audience (Note to producers: replacing guns with swords does not make a scene any less violent!)
Then, as pretty as the locations shots are, they do make us feel a little enclosed until you feel almost as glad as the protagonists do when they commandeer the airship to take them out of there!

Big designs.
Abigail should play well to its target audience: tweenies in need of an ersatz Harry Potter and older geeks who appreciate a dash of steampunk. (Indeed, much of the film’s material was pre-released at the Moscow Comic convention long before the actual first showing).
Whether this ambitious commercial franchise can break into the coveted Western market remains to be seen though. Its very existence, nevertheless, does show the emerging strength of the Russian film industry.

Trailer for `Abigail` – dubbed into English.

Featured image from Youtube.com

RABBLE ROUSERS: BRIGADNI PODRYAD AT 16 TONS.

They came all the way from St Pete’s to prove that Punk’s Not Dead (in Russia at least).

Nearing the end of a murky summer, I found myself, for the first time, in the much vaunted 16 Tons music bar. The season had offered slim pickings in terms of live music, so I had come to witness the re-appearance of an old act. This was an act that had been forged in the stagnation of the U.S.S.R. Would they still have something to say now?

Polished bar – Gritty band.
16 Tons functions as a mock-up of a British pub of the kind anathema to me. The exterior features a facade of olde-worlde curtained windows making the place resemble some kind of fun fair attraction. Upstairs, on the inside, the place is all gleaming dark mahogany, fake shelves of books and art nouveau style lamps. In fact, it is just the sort of place that was erupting all over Britain in the nineties. Indeed, 16 Tons has been in business since 1996 and has gained a reputation for both decent live music and beer.
Brigadni Podryad – their name gets translated as `Team Contract` but carries the sense of `mercenaries` -have been torchbearers of `77 style garage punk since their Soviet baiting school days and might seem to be out-of-place in such a venue. Then again the band can claim responsibility for some 15 studio albums which contain some cherished classics the appeal of which extends beyond the punk rock cognoscenti.

All the old dudes.
People say that 16 Tons provides great beers, which are brewed on site. However, after around two hundred punters had rolled up I had to forget about following up my passable glass of white ale. Those who spent the gig propping up the bar were not going to budge an inch!

The online blurb for the band made something of the fact that they can still speak to Youth. In fact few of the audience members looked below thirty. I did see a hipster type donned in a `No Gods – Nor Masters` t-shirt but there were more portly old gents with silver hair. Some people – and this is a real sign that a band has become established – had brought their kids.

A more unusual posse of exhibitionists pushed their way to the front of the throng. They represented Tula – a fan club from 190 odd kilometers south of Moscow. They waved a big flag to announce this fact.

No nonsense rockers.
We stood around as electronic disco music played expectant tunes. When the group arrived they launched straight into an aggressive number beneath red and orange lights and with the lead singer sporting a foot long Mohican. They seemed meaner than their jolly japish videos suggest – but they would soon loosen up.
Maxim Koldaev wielded the sticks in an AC/DC t-shirt, the bearded Evgeni Hulpin was on bass guitar, Anatoly Sktyarenko was the lead guitarist and Alexander Lukyanov fronted as the lead verbalist but also guitar.

Adapted Punk.
Brigadni Podryad specialise in Sex Pistol’s style fast and heavy rock: they are to `77 what Primal Scream are to `66. The assorted rabble got what they had come for – a chance to let rip with some `in yer face` but melodic choruses. The ethos was that of fans at an ice hockey match chanting and singing in unison.
Realising, however, that you cannot base an entire set around `1-2-3-crash-bang-crash` the band do allow other musical genres into the punk party. Much of what they play might be called Power Pop. Otherwise there can be found traces of rap and folk and even, in one song, a bit of funk.

Talented performers.
Lukyanov has a versatile voice which he sometimes wastes on doing good impressions of Pistol’s era John Lydon, but sounds far better as himself. He also supplements this with clear and confident melodies picked out on his guitar which serve to enrich the grinding clatter.
The band worked the audience with merry banter between songs and the guitarist gurned at them as he crouched over his instrument in a baseball cap and small shades.
Then, to the side of the stage, in a cordoned of V.I.P area the bottle blondes cavorted in a practised way to the beat. I took these to be the band members loyal wives.

Only rock and roll.
They strummed and hollered their way through an hour and a half worth of anthems and ballads without so much as stopping for a sip of water.
Their songs included the well-known `Gitari`, the goofy `Punk Rock Uroki` (`Punk rock Lesson`) and `St Pete’s Rock and Roll`. Then there was the edifying ditty entitled `Ivan Fuck off` which the crowd relished singing along to. We also got treated to a piece in praise of Krasnodar.
Unless there is something I am missing, Brigadni Podryad, these days at least, are not so much concerned with affairs of state. They tell of everyday impatience, family life, towns and…rock and roll. Rock and Roll in particular.

I am not unused to rock gig scrums. Nevertheless, as I stumbled in a daze back to the Metro, I felt like some sort of Woody Allen character who had been corralled into a jolly knees up with a bunch of Hell’s Angels.
If only I had been able to get to the bar more often, it could have been so much different!

`Gitari` by Brigadni Podryad.

PLAYBOY OF THE EASTERN WORLD: Are the glitzy Moscow highlife DYXLESS films still relevant?

A black drone in the night sky, outside the lit window of a Moscow office block. Shady deals are underway in the interior. A heavy in the company spots the spy craft, pulls out a pistol and fires at it, blowing holes in the window. The drone drops. The credits begin….

Such is the opening to Dyxless 2 . `Wake up`, it seemed to say. `And welcome to 2015! `

Many a Russian film is, if not a goofy slapstick type comedy set in a sunny never-never land , then yet another brawny heroic retread of the `Great Patriotic War`. Within all that there exists ample room for pictures concerned with the here-and-now. Half a decade back, the Dyxless films seemed to provide just that.

The title `Dyxless` – sometimes transliterated into `Duhless` – means `Soulless` (the Russian word `Doosha` with the English suffix `less` grafted onto it). The film represents an adaptation of a novel by Sergey Minaev called `Soulless: the Tale of an Unreal Man` which caused a stir in 2006. The wine trader and broadcaster, now in his mid-forties, had exposed the `Botox. Bentley. Sushi` milieu of the new aspirational Russians. Critics even bracketed him with Bret Easton Ellis, of American Psycho fame.

Lifting the lid on a decadent glamour.

Six years later the screen version, billed as `A film about what really matters in life`, opened the Moscow International Film Festival. Kinoslovo films produced it and the now fifty year old Roman Prygunov (son of the actor Lev Prygunov) directed. The rising matinée idol, the 27 year old Danila Kozlovsky, played the story’s anti-hero, Max. (Koslovsky is known to some Western viewers for his role in The Vampire Academy).

Max Andreev is a 29-year-old orphan who has risen to be a top executive manager of a French/Russian credit company. He is, as he puts it `master of reality` and can get everything money can buy. His life, however, is… `soulless`. That is until he meets Julia (Mariya Andreeva). Julia belongs to an alternative world of anti-capitalist theatrics. For example, her crew set off a paint bomb in a fancy restaurant to protest the meat trade. A love affair results, which causes Max to reconsider his priorities. Can he renounce his old ways?

This consumerist -romp-with-a-conscience provoked enough interest to justify the making of a sequel, released in March of 2015.

Downshifter.

Dyxless 2 begins in Bali where we find Max now living as a surfing hipster, having said farewell to the life of high finance. Soon, however, his old associates track him down and use heavy-handed tactics to lure him back to Moscow. `There are new waves there`, they tell him of the Moscow that has moved on in his absence.

Installed in the Carlton-Ritz on Tverskaya Street, he is introduced to a fellow Bright Young Thing (played by the Serbian actor Milos Bikovic) who insists on Max having a make-over and introduces him to venture capitalism. Max ix back in the soulless world, but he meets Julia again, who is now married and has sold out. He also uncovers a network of corruption and in so doing discovers a new sense of purpose as a champion of ethical business. Can he keep his integrity?

Whilst the first film is an outrageous drama with a love interest, the second one is more of an espionage thriller with a veiled sociopolitical message. Both contain the same hints of dry humour about them, however.

In visual terms they both showcase well photographed scenes of the Russian capital, such as the River Moskva, or the Moscow State University seen from above. This is as befits a director with a background in advertising and rock videos. As for Koslovsky, the critics appreciated his performance enough to award him the Golden Eagle for the best film actor of 2012 for the first one. Dyxless imprinted his image on the national psyche and he has been a much sought after screen lead ever since. (Neither film, by the way, has been made available dubbed into English, but the first one can be found online with English subtitles).

Some have compared the pictures to Wall Street. They share some of the ambivalence about runaway consumerism which that film had, but lack the political punch that the film also delivered in 1987. Dyxless also calls to mind Room at the Top (1958), the classic British morality tale about the pursuit of success. However, the director owes the most to French cinema (to see just how much so, read Russian Film Symposium notes of 2013).Writing in 2013 Elena Murkhortova uncovers the way in which Dyxless `samples` some sequences from the 2007 French film 99 Francs. Of equal interest is her revelation that the character of Max owes much to Eugene Onegin, Pushkin’s immortal anti-hero.

On the domestic end, the film Generation P (2011) explores not so different themes, but in a much more edgy, oppositional manner. Likewise, the notorious Leviathan (2014) takes far more risks by zooming in on the opposite end of the social spectrum.

The Metro newspaper said at the time that there might be a further sequel on the way (after all Dyxless 2 has been the most popular Russian film of this year). Perhaps it would even become a franchise, a bit like the Bond series?

No more from Max.

This was not to be. What we got instead, three years later, was Selfie. Nikolai Khomeriki was the kingpin this time. This 44-year-old talent’s previous motion picture had been Ledokol (Icebreaker) from 2016, a fact-based gritty adventure concerning the fate of a nuclear icebreaker. Selfie too was a more Russian affair: a Moscow film noir set in icy back streets. The protagonist too, whilst affluent, was middle-aged and washed out (depicted well by Konstantin Khabensky). This film was not, nor intended to be, a continuation of the Dyxless cycle, despite the involvement of Minaev, (who wrote the screenplay this time).

You see the Dyxless films now look like period pieces. In a nation beset by sanctions and a stalling economy, where the urban young are becoming indignant about corruption and rigged elections, the glossy magazine world that those films both indulged and satirised already appears less and less relevant. Even so, before we leave the twenty Teens behind, it is worth recalling that these films seemed almost alone in their brief day for at least trying to say something about their own times.

Trailer for Dyxless.

Trailer for Dyxless 2 (English subtitles).

Main image courtesy of DOMKINO TV.

KILLER SERIAL.

Moscow’s addition to the C.S.I crime subgenre is predictable but with a charm of its own.
Eleven year old Moscow based television drama company Epic Media have gifted us with a number of their shows free of charge and with English subtitles on YouTube.
This treasure trove includes Flint (a sort of Russian update on Rambo: First Blood), Sky Court (an afterlife based fantasy parable), Department (serpentine infighting within a crime busting agency) and, from 2015, Akademia, a crime investigation drama.
There exist three of the series each consisting of twenty 45 minute episodes and it is a rare pleasure to be able to gorge on these in translation and without interruptions from someone peddling Old Granny’s Smetana.

Well-worn path.
Directed by Vyacheslav Lavrov (of the freakish Zen Drive of 2006) Akademia introduces a glamorous cast of up-and-coming faces. Galina Sumina (who appeared in the virtual reality thriller Censor of 2017), the old television hand Alexander Yatso (starring in Angelina at the moment) and Alexander Konstantinov (from the film 2010 Vroslaya doch ili Test Na) are but some of them.
To label Akademia a `C.S.I Moscow` would be to condemn it with too much haste, and yet it does adopt the template from a certain influential and iconic production. Of equal significance though is the precedent of Freud’s Method which the programme mirrors to a notable extent.

Sunny Moscow.
Contemporary Moscow is where the action takes place and we are reminded of this fact by repetitive outside shots of the capital in summery weather. The cast, donned in casual chic, are all model material and their office space and laboratory is up-to-date and spic and span. In short, this is Russia’s biggest city as you do not often see it.

Friends.
Anastasia Zorina (Sumina), a member of the Investigative Committee of the Russian Federation becomes involved in a complex homicide case in which she needs to call upon the services of a pathologist from the Moscow Institute – Cyril Lemke (Maxim Bitokov).
Their teamwork pays dividends so they endeavour to strike out alone and set up their own investigative group – the academy.
Their first acquisition to their new team consists of a spunky dreadlock haired hacker called Oksa (Elisavete Lotova). She is in trouble with the law for having hacked into military defence sites but her brilliant skills are just the job so they offer her some respite from the threat of jail if she works for them.
Next they enlist a rather cocksure biologist (Konstantinov). Then they further swell their ranks with a teenage chemistry boffin. All they need next is a psychology master and this arrives in the person of Doctor Rotkin (Yatso).
Another component of the mix is the traditional tough guy cop who comes with a gun (the rest of the team are not shooters, and this is part of their charm). Then, just as with Freud’s Method Zorina has to report to the elder of the tribe in the form of an uniformed and portly official.
Last, but by no means least the team employ an older security guard. He shows his Soviet origins by the reading of hard copy newspapers and the ability to conjure up historical facts which prove of use to investigations (`Nineteen fifty seven – that was the year of the International Youth Festival in Moscow`).
The scriptwriters then build a soap opera-like story arc around this extended family.
Backstories.

Maxim Bitokov as Cyril and Galina Sumina as Zorina [tv.vtomske.ru]

Zorina – who is so damned photogenic that she could suck a bag of lemons and still remain a beauty – gets ensnared in an on/off affair with a flashy lawyer but it is also apparent that there is some sexual tension between her and her pathologist associate Lemke.
Lemke, a suave metro sexual who wears pink shirts as though they are a uniform and disapproves of boxing,tries to ensure that his young son receives a good upbringing in spite of the boy’s capricious and flighty mother.
Oksa, the one time` hactivist`, still has the Sword of Damocles of a looming court case hanging over her. Zorina’s lawyer friend does his best to aid her, as does the biologist Ed Pirozhnov, who has eyes for her.
The young chemist, meanwhile has gone and fallen for Zorina’s younger sister and is also brooding over his impending conscription.
Doctor Rotkin is more of a dark horse. We only learn that he has a taste for classic rock, single malts and motorcycles and aims to write a book.

Deductions.
The untitled episodes all begin with the chance discovery of a gruesome corpse before the titles come up over a portentous score courtesy of Igor Krestovsky.
A forensic examination ensues in which cunning narratives revolve around scientific explanations: the holding up of a hair or piece of cloth by tweezers is often a pivotal moment in the story.
The skeleton of an African athlete from the nineteen fifties is discovered holed up in the wall of an office building,the mother of a gangster enacts revenge on the policemen who framed her son, a medic uses a secret nerve agent to assassinate foes,a female doctor experiments on drug addicted down-and outs in order to find a cure for her own drug dependent son. The answers are never on Ninety Third Street.
All the while Zorina is also embroiled in trying to find her missing policeman father. This search culminates in a rather overwrought conspiracy scenario which rocks the foundations of the academy, and closes Season Three.

Cracks.
Notwithstanding its overall professionalism, Akademia can appear lame at times.
The script is shared around the large cast like in one of those school plays where all the players must have a line to say. The in-car sequences, with their projected backdrops, take us back to the seventies, whereas the C.G I explosions are all too contemporary but unconvincing. So too are the latex corpses.
Then we have some obtrusive departures from verisimiltude. The pathology lab (which houses fresh dead bodies) gets treated like a living room with people barging in without prior permission. The chemical investigations sometimes present us with test tubes containing brightly coloured effervescing liquids in the manner of Doctor Jekyll.
One episode is brought to a close by the security man saving the day by shooting dead an errant villain, without anyone being concerned by the legal and moral implications of this act.

Pelmeni for the eyes.

Akademia seems more restrained and cerebral than C.S.I Miami, its rocky antecedent. This may be no bad thing, but then when you place this show alongside Freud’s Method it does fall a little short.
The latter feels grittier. For example their Moscow is sometimes wintry and ice-laden and they tackle issues such as immigration and drug abuse in a more head-on sort of way. Moreover, Freud’s Method offers some solid character acting, in particular from Ivan Okhlobstyn, against which the cast of Akademia look a little like automatons.
Akademia resembles a comforting bowl of supermarket pelmeni. It would not do you much good if taken too often. You might even find yourself entertaining the crazy notion that all is for the best in Putin’s Russia. Still, here we have a bit of pleasant well made, quality Russian television drama.

Episode 1 of series 1 of AKADEMIA.

The main picture is courtey of video.sibnet.ru